bigapplesauce | Daine's Arrival [Closed]

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Daine's Arrival [Closed]

Daine Sarrasri knows that wandering about with only Cloud and the other People for company might not be the wisest idea she's ever had, but the recent snowfall--the first of the season--is too tempting. It's been months since she's had the chance to take a quiet ride for no reason but the pleasure of it, with no particular destination in mind and no need to hurry. Given how busy things have been--and how busy they're likely to get, as it's only a matter of time before some immortals cause a ruckus somewhere--she's happy to seize the chance while she has it.

At least there haven't been any new holes torn in the barrier lately, and the forest around the castle is safer than most, thanks to frequent patrols. It's not a guarantee that there won't be trouble, but she has her bow--already strung, just in case--and she's quick enough with her shifting that she's not too worried. If anything, it's Cloud's safety that might be a concern. Daine taking a hawk shape and flying off wouldn't do her pony much good.

Cloud lets out an indignant snort, reminding Daine that she's not a helpless foal in need of coddling. If there's trouble, it's as likely to come from the stork-man as an immortal.

Daine can't help smiling at Cloud's less-than-flattering nickname for Numair, but it turns into a wince a moment later. She isn't sure what to think about her teacher's recent protective streak. Given what happened in Carthak, she supposes it was fair enough at the time… but she hopes he isn't planning on continuing with it now that they're home. She doesn't think he'd get into a pet over her outing, but she wasn't certain enough to tell him about it and risk his grousing.

A jay's warning call startles Daine and Cloud, who stops in her tracks. There's something up ahead that has the People upset, and Daine catches something through the bare branches--a glimmer, or a flicker--that reminds her of the holes she's seen torn in the barrier. A quick survey of the nearby animals confirms that there are no two-leggers about, though. Barring mages, who--or what--could be making the hole? Daine's mind races as she slips off Cloud's back. Is the barrier so weak that holes are just appearing? There's a problem they don't need.

"Stay put," Daine orders Cloud as she draws an arrow from her quiver and edges toward the spot where the flickers seemed to be coming from. If any nasties show up, she wants Cloud to have a head start. She doesn't feel any nasties, though; there's no unpleasant buzz of an angry immortal in her mind. If there is a hole in the barrier, nothing seems to be passing through it. Frowning, she steps forward.

There's a whinny from Cloud, and then the world gives a sickening tilt that blurs Daine's vision and sends her sprawling. She lands harder than she expected, because there's suddenly no snow to cushion her. Instead, there's a crunch of frozen grass, and the wind is knocked out of her.

As she gasps for air, she realizes that she can no longer hear Cloud, not even in her mind. Her range with Cloud ought to be miles; how can she not hear her? In a panic, she casts her magic out like a net. There are squirrels, pigeons, a few horses, a fair number of cats and dogs, rats (lots of rats), and--she jerks back as soon as she reaches a menagerie, though she hears enough in that brief moment to confirm that it's not their majesties', but one she doesn't recognize.

Belatedly, she realizes that sending out her magic might have been a mistake. All the People in her range are now aware that she's here and eager to meet her (with the exception of the rats, who are no more welcoming now than they were in Carthak), and she's in no position to greet them properly. Please, not yet, she silently calls as she waits for her head to stop spinning. I'd love to meet you all, but I need a little time, first. There's an agreeable ripple of response, and most of the People go back to whatever they were doing before she interrupted them.

After a steadying breath, Daine pushes herself up and blinks to clear her vision. She doesn't recognize anything, not the smooth lawn, or the trees, or the handful of gray squirrels eyeing her curiously. Even the air is unfamiliar.

Where is she?

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Daine considers a wry 'never better' in response to his question, but what he says next makes her look up at him in alarm, sarcasm forgotten. They're crossing the street, now? He'd just said it wasn't safe a few minutes before.

"You said not to go into the street," she objects.

"Not except at lights," he explains -- he would be explaining patiently, but she's making him antsy with her nervousness. "Or crosswalks. Uh -- see that light over the street? It changes colors and tells them when they're allowed to go."

Daine frowns at the light, failing to see how some little thing hanging above the road is going to stop the cars from doing whatever they please. Nor is she reassured by Yuri's evident nerves. If it's safe, why doesn't he sound more confident? Daine stops in her tracks, ignoring the grumbling of the two-leggers who have to dodge to keep from bowling her over, and plants her hands on her hips.

"You're sure this is safe?"

"I do this every day!" whines Yuri, really wishing another rebel were here to help him. Kuiv, maybe, except Kuiv scares him. "It's you I'm worried about! Look, we can -- we can stand here and watch, and you'll see. They stop."

Daine folds her arms and scowls at him, unimpressed and a little disgruntled. She doesn't need reminding that she's out of place (as if she's likely to forget), and she doesn't want his worry even if it is warranted. She's following Yuri because she wants help, not because she wants him fussing over her.

"Fine," she says, shifting her gaze to the street and the lights. Sure enough, the lights turn, the cars stop, and a small crowd of people safely crosses the street. It looks simple enough, though the thought of passing so close to the cars still makes her nervous.

Yuri huffs and scowls and generally looks put out in return. He watches the light turn, not without irritation at the thought that they'll have to wait a whole cycle over again. At least it occurs to him to use the opportunity to point something out.

"See that white person symbol?" he asks, pointing. "That says it's okay to walk. When it's a red hand, you don't cross."

Daine nods, then stiffens as the red hand flashes. There are still plenty of folk in the street--some even start to cross, though at a quicker pace. "People are still in the street," she hisses at him, wondering if she should grab her bow. "What if they're still there when the light changes?"

Without pausing to think about self-preservation this time, Yuri reaches over to put a hand on her forearm. "The light for the cars doesn't turn until after the hand starts flashing," he replies in a stage whisper. "And the cars are controlled by people, remember." People who were sometimes idiots, but no need to talk about that.

Both Daine and the cat are too busy staring at the cars to pay much heed to Yuri's hand. She can guess why he's staying her, though, so she takes a deep breath and tries to relax a little. None of the two-leggers seem concerned, so things must be all right. She curls her hands into fists and stuffs them into her pockets so he won't think she's going for her bow.

She can see the people inside the cars even without reshaping her eyes, and she tries to convince herself that they must be taking great care with their riding. It might be easy for them to overlook something as small as a cat (the thought makes her wince), but she doesn't see how they can miss the people hurrying by only a few feet away from them. Still, she lets out a small sigh of relief when the last person is safely out of the street.

Yuri, meanwhile, is fervently hoping that no idiot goes running out in the street at the wrong time or starts a car too soon. Even if someone just comes close to getting bumped, he's pretty sure he'll never get Daine to cross.

"The light'll turn yellow after a while," he supplies helpfully. "That's how they know it's about to turn red."

Fortunately for everyone involved, nothing seems to be going amiss. Daine watches the lights change from yellow to red, just as Yuri said they would. By the time it's red, everyone has cleared the road except for the cars, and Daine lets out the breath she'd been holding. It's reassuring to see some proof that Yuri knows what he's talking about, even if he's not always very good at explaining things.

"So they just keep changing back and forth like that?" It's a strange system, but then again, there are a lot of people passing through. The thought of a two-legger trying to direct everything makes her head spin, so maybe the lights are best.

It's a relief to see Daine relaxing, even just a little bit. He keeps an eye on her more than he does the intersection, still hoping no one does anything dumb before he can get her across. He has the slightly mean thought that if he can get her across the street, she might hesitate to run away back to the park with that obstacle in her way.

"Pretty much," he nods. "There's lots of these, all over the city."

Daine watches the cars drive by. They're not moving too quickly--there are plenty of animals that could outpace them--but there are lots of them, and all traveling faster than a human could run. Crossing the road without the light system seems all but impossible.

"So when the lights switch back," she says, wanting to make sure she understands, "that's when we'll cross."

"Yup." Yuri smiles and decides to try actually taking her hand. The worst she can do is have the cat tear his face off, right? "Once it turns and we've got the walk sign, we'll go. Are you ready?"

Daine glances down, a little surprised by the gesture, but she doesn't shake him off. She could use the reassurance, at least until they get across. "Ready," she says, because she has to be.

The cat seizes the opportunity to leap up onto Yuri's shoulders, which are both broader than Daine's and higher up, giving him a steadier perch and a better vantage point.

Fleas! supplies Yuri's brain. Also, claws, that's another thing cats have. He stiffens, squeezing Daine's hand a good bit harder than he means to, and tries not to move his head.

"...Alright," he says, voice a little strained. It's just a cat -- he can deal with a cat. Next to his face. Giving him fleas.

"Sorry," Daine apologizes on behalf of the cat--not that the cat is the least bit sorry, but it's clear that Yuri's less than thrilled with the arrangement. "He won't hurt you," she adds, giving the cat a pointed look.

The cat doesn't deign to respond, though Daine isn't sure if it's because he doesn't want to make any promises of good behavior or because he's too busy lashing his tail in such a way that it repeatedly hits Yuri right in the nose. Daine tries to disguise her laugh as a cough, but doesn't do a very convincing job of it.

"I'm fine," says Yuri, trying to be calm and maybe a little bit gruff and tough. When the cat doesn't start scratching him open he relaxes very slightly, but he still can't help but think he'd better treat himself for parasites tonight.

He tries to squint at the walk/don't walk signal in a manly fashion, but keeps having to blink every time the cat's tail hits his face. He lets out a snort that's not entirely unamused, and reaches his free hand up to try to redirect the tail.

Daine bites her lip to keep from grinning. Beneath her amusement, she appreciates that Yuri's being gentle in his attempts to push the cat's tail away. Plenty of two-leggers wouldn't be so nice about it.

As the other light turns yellow, Daine warns the cat that they're about to start moving. Accordingly, the cat stops tormenting Yuri and settles on his shoulder, his tail hanging down Yuri's back, the picture of innocence. Daine takes a few steadying breaths as most of the cars slow, though a few speed up--to make it through before the light turns red, she guesses. By the time the light changes to red, all the cars have stopped obediently.

They'll be fine. Everyone else was fine last time the lights turned, right? Well, then. She swallows and squeezes Yuri's hand.

Yuri might be acting extra-gentle right now for Daine's sake...but even under normal circumstances, the worst he'd probably do would be to try to shoo the cat off his shoulder. A while back, he decided that he's destructive enough once per month without being a menace as a human as well.

"Good cat," he tells it, glad he's not going to have to cross the street with fur going up his nose (moreso than already). He doesn't remember being this nervous about crossing a street since he was young enough that he had to hold his mother's hand. Now, if everyone will just do what they're supposed to....

He gives it a moment, letting a couple people start crossing, before he steps out into the street with Daine in tow. "We'll be fine," he assures her. "I've done this hundreds of times."

Daine doesn't have much time to be amused by the cat's scornful reaction to being dubbed a 'good cat' before they're moving. She stumbles a little as she follows Yuri off the curb, her attention so fixed on the cars that she's not watching where she puts her feet. She quickly recovers herself, though not without the wry, fleeting thought that it's just as well the cat isn't on her shoulders anymore.

The cars rumble to themselves, but seem to be staying put. When they're about halfway across the street, one inches forward a bit. Startled, Daine instinctively shies away from it, bumping into Yuri in the process. The cat lets out an indignant meow at being jostled, though he manages not to fall.

Is that how one induces good cats to act contrary, then?

Yuri tries very hard not to look worried or nervous, but when he thinks of how this must all look to Daine, it's hard not to imagine her breaking loose and simply making a run for it. He tenses when she bumps into him, and winces, anticipating claws digging into his shoulders.

"Easy!" he says, though he shoots the driver a glare. The gesture he gets back is rather ruder.

"Sorry," she replies, shivering. Part of her feels foolish for overreacting--even as she'd bumped into Yuri, she'd registered that the car hadn't moved much, and had stopped again quickly enough--but the larger part just wants to get out of this gods-cursed street as soon as possible. She grits her teeth and quickens her pace, darting anxious glances between the opposite curb and the cars they're passing.

They might get a glance or two from people not used to seeing a young man with a cat on him leading about a young woman who's obviously terrified with no obvious cause...but then, this is New York City. No one pays them much mind, including the drivers.

Yuri feels a flood of relief when they reach the curb after what seems like the single longest street-crossing of his life. "There," he says with a smile. "We made it."

"Huzzah," Daine deadpans, shivering. It occurs to her that she'll have to do it again--quite possibly more than once--and she winces. Maybe it will be easier next time. At the very least, she'll have some idea of what to expect.

"Where do we go, now?" Getting across the street was one thing; now she wants to get away from it.

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